Baxter, the picture of misery, was a prisoner.  The bully’s face was much swollen and one eye was in deep mourning.  He sat huddled up in a heap in a corner and wondering what punishment would be dealt out to him.  “I suppose they’ll kill me,” he groaned, and it may be added that he thought he almost deserved that fate.

“You came just in time,” said Dick.  “Captain Villaire was about to torture us into writing letters home asking for the money he wanted as a ransom.  Baxter put it into his head that we were very rich.”

“Oh, please don’t say anything more about it!” groaned the unfortunate bully.  “I —­ that Frenchman put up this job all on his own hook.”

“I don’t believe it,” came promptly from Randolph Rover.  “You met him, at Boma; you cannot deny it.”

“So I did; but be didn’t say he was going to capture you, and I -”

“We don’t care to listen to your falsehoods, Baxter,” interrupted Dick sternly.

“You are fully as guilty as anybody.  You admitted it before.”

Cujo had gone off to watch Captain Villaire and his party.  He now came back, bringing word that the brigand had taken a fallen tree and put out on the Congo and was drifting down the stream along with several of his companions in crime.

“Him won’t come back,” said the tall African.  “Him had enough of urn fight.”

Nevertheless the whole party remained on guard until morning, their weapons ready for instant use.  But no alarm came, and when day, dawned they soon made sure that they had the entire locality around the old fort to themselves, the Frenchman with a broken arm having managed to crawl off and reach his friends.

What to do with Dan Baxter was a conundrum.

“We can’t take him with us, and if we leave him behind he will only be up to more evil,” said Dick.  “We ought to turn him over to the British authorities.”

“No, no, don’t do that,” pleaded the tall youth.  “Let me go and I’ll promise never to interfere with you again.”

“Your promises are not worth the breath used in uttering them,” replied Tom.  “Baxter, a worse rascal than you could not be imagined.  Why don’t you try to turn over a new leaf?”

“I will —­ if you’ll only give me one more chance,” pleaded the former bully of Putnam Hall.

The matter was discussed in private and it was at last decided to let Baxter go, providing he would, promise to return straight to the coast.

“And remember,” said Dick, “if we catch you following us again we will shoot you on sight.”

“I won’t follow —­ don’t be alarmed,” was the low answer, and then Baxter was released and conducted to the road running down to Boma.  He was given the knife he had carried, but the Rovers kept his pistol, that he might not be able to take a long-range shot at them.  Soon he was out of their sight, not to turn up again for a long while to come.